


First of Feathers

by albatroce (MakeWayForAgony)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Chwe Hansol | Vernon-centric, Friends to Lovers, Hansol's Family, Happy Ending, Lore - Freeform, M/M, Mages, except vernon isn't even traumatised but his mother is, jihoon - Freeform, seungkwan - Freeform, side characters, tw slight trauma?, vernon as the TEACHERS PET, wonwoo isn't that mysterious he just hates being perceived
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 07:27:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30068739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakeWayForAgony/pseuds/albatroce
Summary: The first time Hansol looks into Jeon Wonwoo’s eyes, he is starstruck.*Vernon has been suffering of a magickal malfunction for most of his life, trying to right it on his own, until a fateful encounter with the mysterious Jeon Wonwoo makes him think that maybe, he should ask for help.
Relationships: Chwe Hansol | Vernon/Jeon Wonwoo
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	First of Feathers

**Author's Note:**

> i woke up with this idea in my head this morning, wrote a term paper and tons of mails to my professors, and then just went ahead without a draft. this isn't beta read, so if you find mistakes, PLEASE let me know!
> 
> also, this has lore! it's not very extensive, but check the end notes for some explanations, i really hope they make sense
> 
> enjoy the story!

The first time Hansol looks into Jeon Wonwoo’s eyes, he is starstruck.

He is serving pompous canapés at some rich man’s daughter’s cloaking, one hand tucked behind his back at all times and unable to even think about slumping in the brand new and stiff as hell suit vest the client has all employees wear tonight. He is walking around the mass of attendants, dodging running children and offering the snacks to whoever is not currently holding one or busy speaking business.

Hansol isn’t annoyed to be here, he just slept way too little the night before. He wishes he could work more on his assignment for school, but work is work, money is money, so he puts on the friendliest face he can without actually smiling. Then, one turn to the left around the extravagant robe of a Lady, and there he stands.

There’s a violet gleam in the man’s irises, hidden again when he pushes his silver rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. He gives Hansol a polite nod before tentatively reaching for the platter he is holding, and his hair falls into his face when he choses a piece of plum bread topped with cream died in today’s cloaking’s colours, a periwinkle adorning it. His midnight blue suit fits his shoulders in an amicable way, and his whole appearance looks perfectly unthreatening. Yet the form of his hands and the slope of his neck speak of might.

The man smiles at the food and then at Hansol, his eyes crinkling up the slightest bit, and then turns around and leaves.

His silver platter feels heavy in his hands that feel so light.

There are little blue feathers to his feet when he finally goes back to work.

“Who was that?“ Hansol asks his boss after he sees him speak to the stranger at the bar.

“Jeon Wonwoo,“ Jihoon replies, filling glass jugs with freshly mixed magnolia-mint lemonade. “Third son of the Magistrate.“

“Of the Magistrate?“ the younger says with wonder. “How come I’ve never seen him before, then?“

“I told you, third son.“ The mixture fizzes loudly when the ivy-sugar is sprinkled on top of the beverages. A girl who’s name Hansol doesn’t know yet comes and grabs the jugs, hurrying to the tables to serve the guests.

“I went to school with him because his mother didn’t bother teaching him with the other Board children, he’s a good guy. A bit quiet, but so am I.“

Hansol nods. He can see the faint red shimmer of the stranger’s head in the crowd, and sure enough, he’s standing next to the Magistrates eldest daughter.

 _Jeon Wonwoo_.

“What type is he?“

“Oh, he’s peculiar. His whole family has Heat trace, but he’s Aerial.“

“So a Thermal type?“

“No, he’s Winged.“

_Winged._

°°°

The first time Hansol talks to Jeon Wonwoo, he feels himself caught in his presence.

It’s almost impossibly hot for late May, but luckily, Seungkwan is with him, and he has trained his Growth type magick strongly enough to create a thick carpet of moss in the shadow of the poplar they are sitting under. The moss creates a cooling system of its own, relieving their working brains from the heat.

“How is your project going?“ Seungkwan asks, not looking up from his textbook on algebra.

Hansol rubs his biceps. “It’s going,“ he says, to which the older snorts.

“Only little progress since I thought I had that breakthrough in March.“

“Sucks, man. I hope it works out,“ Seungkwan mumbles.

Hansol likes the free form assignment his Evolution professor gave them. It doesn’t require a definite result, what they want to see is the work they put into it, but this is a personal challenge that he can finally focus on using the school’s resources.

There’s some commotion going on close to the campus gates, and Hansol sighs. He just wishes he could finally get to a point where completion doesn’t just seem like a hypothesis, but a real possibility.

“I’m going to check that out,“ Seungkwan says, throwing his brown cloak over his shoulders with a huff and walking towards the crowd of people gathering by the blackboard. It’s either a reform regarding the Argentum Mine’s drafting or a student council announcement about the ban of familiars that everyone has been vehemently protesting for the last two weeks.

Hansol is left alone on the slowly degenerating moss, concentrating on a zoology essay instead of thinking about the project.

“Sorry,“ a voice interrupts him, it’s soft and secure, and upon turning around, Hansol finds Jeon Wonwoo looking down at him.

“Hi,“ he replies, masking the jumps his heart is performing in his chest with a simple smile, slowly setting his notes aside.

“I’m sorry to bother,“ the man apologises again, “but could you point me to the directors’ office?“

Hansol stands up and stretches back. Jeon Wonwoo is wearing a simple jacket to loose bluejeans this times, and the sleeves of his dark t-shirt have slits that disappear onto his back. The student has no idea where the man, who is so calmly standing in front of him, an oversized bag slung around his shoulder and turning a pear in his left hand, even came from. He heard no sounds except for the buzzing of the bees, and saw no shadow except his own.

“I can’t really point you,“ Hansol replies. “The map got taken down for renovation and you won’t find that office without it.“

The man furrows his brow.

“But I can take you.“

“So, who was the guy you took to the office?“ Seungkwan asks on their way to the training fields.

“I don’t really know,“ Hansol answers truthfully, plucking a blue feather out of the fabric of his cloak. On their walk to the directors’ office, he merely found out that the man is two years older than him, not a student, and that his hair is black in the cool shadows of the university’s hallway. Hansol had been asking questions, but had only revealed things about himself in the process.

“His name is Jeon Wonwoo, but I don’t know what that means.“

°°°

The first time Hansol thinks about Jeon Wonwoo, he comes to the conclusion that the answers he is looking for might just lie within this elusive stranger. He just needs to figure out if the pull he experiences around the older is a work of their magick types recognising each other, or something else entirely.

°°°

Jihoon is the one to give him an opening on his research.

“I don’t know if you remember him, but Jeon Wonwoo came to visit and wanted me to give you this the next time I saw you,“ he tells Hansol some weeks later while they unload boxes of cooled fruit into a kitchen. The younger has to wait two more hours until he is finally on his way home to look into the little parcel, which is too complicatedly sealed to open before he can finally sit at his desk.

“No way,“ he whispers, looking at the little flask filled with what to seem to be real dragon-hound scales. He throws open his zoology book and checks the illustrations as closely as he gets before leaning back.

“This is impossible,“ he huffs in awe, tugging at the roots of his hair on his forehead.

There is a little note folded at the bottom of the parcel, which he opens in anticipation. The paper smells good, like the animals in his mother’s barn, but also feels heated, like the hound scales kept the note warm for him, which of course is completely impossible.

_I saw how extensive your notes on that hybridisation properties paper were, so I assumed your interest was more personal and thought more material to experiment with could be appreciated. This is a “Thank you“ for your help. I hope I can repay you accordingly._

_Be well,_

_Jeon Wonwoo._

Hansol gives an incredulous laugh at the letter. This is more than appropriate compensation for showing a stranger the way to an office.

On his way downstairs to find his father, he re-reads the letter over and over, brushing minuscule feathers away to trace the rounded letters with the tips of his fingers.

“Dad, would you let me use the shed tonight?“ he asks his father who is currently waving the condensation over the stove into a pot and cooling it into water.

“Sure, be safe. Don’t spell the glasses clean, do that by hand,“ his father replies.

“Will do.“

Hansol turns over the letter.

There’s a stamp with the Magister’s crest, right above a handwritten address.

And a number.

°°°

The first time Hansol calls Jeon Wonwoo, he is nervous about the possibility that he might not pick up, or that he won’t want to meet, or that this theory is a bust anyways. He is incredibly nervous about hearing his voice up close, hearing every single nuance of his timbre and any vibration of his vocal chords.

He is most nervous about possibly making out annoyance in the older’s voice.

Luckily, he picks up quickly, answering the phone with a confused “Yeah? Who’s there?“

“Hansol,“ the younger replies. “Chwe Hansol.“

“Chwe Hansol,“ Jeon Wonwoo repeats. It sounds dangerously promising.

“How are you?“

Hansol is taken aback by this question. It clearly resonated with a smile, but he thought the older mage would maybe ask if he needs anything from him, or why he called. In no way did he expect friendly banter.

“I’m good,“ he says calmly. “I wanted to thank you for the scales.“

“Were they helpful?“ Jeon Wonwoo asks. “I don’t really know what exactly you were working on there, but I thought of you when I saw them in my mother’s lab so I got some for you.“

He took material from the Magistrate’s personal inventory, _for him_?? This man is threatening to bewitch him fully.

“They were great, I could work with them well. Actually, I wanted to ask if we could meet? If you’re up to that, of course.“

At first, he is only met with silence. Hansol sincerely hopes that the older is just momentarily stunned by his forwardness.

“It’s about the research,“ he adds.

“Oh,“ Jeon Wonwoo responds. “Of course.“

Hansol inwardly jubilates. This could finally end his year long struggles and give him the results he has wished to achieve since he has worked on this. And, this could finally bring him closer to the mystery of Jeon Wonwoo.

“Saturday?“ he asks, as collected as he can manage.

“Saturday,“ the older repeats. “It’s a date, then.“

°°°

His parents barely see their son this week. His father knows better than to disturb a maniacally researching man in a lab, and his mother’s lingering guilt about his curse prevents her from asking any questions about his work. Of course, Hansol has told her time and time again that he does not consider it a curse, and even less does he consider it her fault. Yes, it was a scarring accident, and her magick misdirected itself in ways it rarely does, but it was never guided by harmful intentions. Still, she does not seem to fully grasp that her son is not trying to rid himself of this additional trace, but trying to incorporate it into into his own type.

When Hansol is not in the shed testing the magickal values and properties of hybrid features, he is sitting at his desk, calculating the factors needed for his experiments to succeed and pondering over the question of how Jeon Wonwoo plays into it.

How will this curse of his turn into a blessing?

Hansol does not experiment on anything else but himself and long dead things. Cruelty is not a word in his book, not since he saw his mother’s pain as she realised what her obsession with her and her husband’s compatibility in traces had done to him, when she thought she had been cruel to him. He had been eleven years old, barely a school boy, and fascinated with science since he could read. Once the bodily discomfort of the magickal hit had ebbed, he had revelled in the fact that he was now his own biological anomaly.

His grades have never once slipped from the top of his classes. He absorbed knowledge like a sponge, eager to catch any piece of information that could prove helpful. He had always known that he wasn’t ready yet, that he needed to know more, prepare himself more before he could, one day, start performing spells upon himself. His father had been happy to help him, as he was active in the labs of big pharmaceutical concerns for a long time until he had decided to use his talents in the kitchen instead. He provided him with any material available to him, with the condition that he go to therapy as a way to surveil his mental state. Hansol’s mother had been sick with worry to have turned him into the same person as herself, obsessive over his trace, but he did fine. He was sociable, made his sister laugh at the dinner table, had meaningful relationships with friends and partners.

Hansol is careful. He saw that fear and pain in his mother’s behaviour when the accident happened. He understood it.

This week, he wonders if he should perform the first spell on himself. He has tested spells on horse claws, monkey beaks, hell, any animal or plant hybrid part he could legally and morally get his hands on.

Some spells have worked, some haven’t. It’s too dangerous.

So he doesn’t do it himself.

And after all, Jeon Wonwoo is a Winged type mage.

It should work.

°°°

The first time Hansol meets Jeon Wonwoo on purpose, he embraces the wind that could blow him away with its might.

As he watches the older mage approach in his grey cloak, a storm of little blue feathers twirls around him, their sharp quills cutting into his face. He rubs his arms, calms himself down before the other Aerial reaches him, breathes deeply, untangles his brows, his own cloak flapping around him like bat wings.

“Hello, Hansol,“ Jeon Wonwoo greets him with a smile, pushing his glasses over his glinting eyes.

“Hello, Wonwoo,“ Hansol greets back.

And the wind stills.

“I didn’t know you were Aerial, too,“ Wonwoo remarks as they start walking. They met in front of the Argentum Memorial, Vernon coming directly from work, else he would not have worn his cloak.

“It was way too hot last time we saw each other, I didn’t really care about any professors seeing me without my cloak,“ he replies. The trace colours are mainly worn at work, during official and traditional ceremonies, and in schools. Only very proud or traditional people wore their cloaks constantly, and since Hansol had seen Wonwoo without it before, he doesn’t think he counts to those people, no matter his powerful family.

“They seem to know you well enough anyways, from what the directors told me,“ the older says.

“You asked about me?“

“Oh! Uh, well, not really directly,“ Wonwoo says, a flush creeping up his neck. “They just… well, they mentioned your academical success.“

Hansol nods, suppressing his urge to grin.

“I hope you’re fine with walking a bit,“ he says.

“Don’t worry,“ the older replies. “I flew here.“

They finally talk more on their way to Hansol’s house, and Jeon Wonwoo becomes a clearer picture by the minute. Hansol discovers that the Winged mainly runs errands for his mother’s bureau, training to one day be initiated as an official archivist in the High Office, and that he arrived to their meeting place after delivering documents from the Magistrate to the Operatum.

“Do you see him often, then? People say he’s the most important guy of the Office now, since the Parlater got into that scandal with the Medium.“

Wonwoo laughs at that insensitive rumour, which he doesn’t deny, and his voice bounces from the walls of the houses they pass, ringing loud and perfect in the side streets.

“I rarely see the Operatum, he has too much work to do. He is always polite to me, though, so I’m not worried about him being my boss later on. I suppose he's one of the nicer people on the Board.“

Hansol finds out that the older moves his head slowly while he talks, and that his nose scrunches up when he laughs. When he asks Hansol questions about his hobbies and his family, he looks at him intently from the side, their barely varying heights causing him to bump into Hansol’s shoulder by accident sometimes. When neither of them speak, his face assumes a distant expression, but his gleaming eyes betray his thoughts running along to all impressions from his surroundings. His walk is upright, confident, his shoulders rolling from time to time, with his arms swinging freely next to him. When the light hits it just right, his black hair shimmers darkly red, sometimes even powerfully so when the sun touches him full force. He shows real interest in Hansol’s opinions when they discuss the Mining, seemingly just as eager to learn about Hansol as the younger is to learn about him, respectful of the holes the younger mage leaves in his tales.

They make fast friends.

However, it isn’t until Hansol leads him into his backyard towards the shed after preparing tea and introducing the older to his parents that Wonwoo finally asks about the project.

“It’s a long story,“ Hansol says.

“Too long?“ Wonwoo inquires tentatively, and Hansol shakes his head with a smile.

“No, it’s important that you know about it.“

The two mages sit by the heater, drinking their tea with biscuits fresh out of the oven, while Hansol tells his tale.

“I am a Lifting type mage,“ he starts. “My father is Pulling, while my mother is a Fur Calling type. When I was still very young, maybe even before I was born, my mother had ideas about their traces mixing. I think she expected me to become a Feather Calling, but the spiritual alignments didn’t work how she thought they would, so she subconsciously obsessed over the idea that I could have turned out differently.“

While he speaks, Hansol observes as Wonwoo’s expression sets serious, sometimes even slightly worried, while his attention is fully focused on his story. He doesn’t interrupt him with any fidgeting or questioning noises, letting the younger speak without any restriction.

“One day, the energy my mother invested into these thoughts bottled up and leaked out as magick. I was always responsive to any sort of magickal manifestations around me as a kid, so I used Lifting on myself instinctively. Somehow, that triggered her magick, so it latched on to me and sort of exploded around us. Her Caller type attached itself to my Aerial trace, which caused every single bird in probably a four mile radius to flock the house, but it also somehow produced a transfer of Ground trace onto me.“

Wonwoo’s eyes widen in surprise. Magick outbursts are known to happen from time to time, but the latching of a trace to anything but the original holder is nearly unheard of. Sure, traces of mages influence each other to build the magickal genes of their offsprings, just like Wonwoo’s manifestation as a Winged is inherently interwoven by his Heat trace dominated family tree, but traces mixing should be impossible.

“So what did that leave you with?“ he asks.

“Some scars,“ Hansol answers with a smile. “And Volatile type magick.“

The older mage outright gasps now.

“When I use levitation on myself or other objects, my abilities are unchanged; I still just float with a sense of direction, but now, I grow feathers as well.“

Wonwoo just stares at him, mouth agape.

“Do you… want to see?“ Hansol asks.

“Yes! I mean. Yes, if you’d like,“ the older replies excitedly.

Hansol stands up and leads his friends outside.

“It’s not a full metamorphosis, but I do spasm sometimes, so the shed isn’t very secure,“ he explains, taking his cloak and his flannel off until he stands in the breeze in his undershirt alone.

And then he stands still for a second, concentrating the Volatile on himself, feeling his torso lift weightlessly while his feet detach from the ground. His arms start tickling as little, dark blue feathers shoot out of his skin, creating a soft down from neck to wrists. His elbows start hurting as longer feathers push themselves through, forcing Hansol to contort his arms against his chest. He knows how far he can go, so when his nails prolong themselves to quills, he interrupts his conjuring of magick and lands back on the ground.

“It’s not usually this much feathers,“ he tells Wonwoo, who just stares at him in awe.

“That was so crazy,“ the older says, reaching for Hansol’s check to catch one of the feathers that have started to detach themselves already, his fingertips barely brushing against the younger’s jaw. “That was incredible,“ he repeats with a laugh. “So the research on hybrids-?“

“Yeah, that was for myself,“ Hansol chuckles.“It might sound crazy, but I want to try and develop my magick type and be able to fly.“

Wonwoo laughs in amazement.

“You would be the first person to do that! How?“

He sounds absolutely honest when he asks Hansol, like he believes that he could achieve his dream, like it’s not just a little boy’s fantasy, but a real possibility. Hansol is filled with pride and absolute confidence at this reaction. He knows Wonwoo will help him, and he knows he did the right choice entrusting his hope onto the Winged type.

“Bespell me.“

°°°

Hansol sees Wonwoo nearly every day now. His shifts at work are easily transferred onto the times when the older works for the Magistrate, and after school when Wonwoo returns from his apprenticeship in the archives, they sit in the shed or Hansol’s room for hours to figure out the right spell to make him fly. Their time is spent calculating, eating Hansol’s parents’ cooking, chasing familiars out of the shed and comparing each other’s magick signatures. They bond over books, politics, the Medium’s horoscope that contradicts the Aurora’s weather forecast. Wonwoo takes the younger into the library to do research and lets him study there for his classes while he works, showing him how the archive’s incantations are spun through the shelves and organise themselves into the hands of the searching library visitors. Every evening that Hansol falls into his bed, he wishes for it to be morning, so he can learn from his teachers and, more importantly, from Wonwoo. He feels at peace like he hasn’t been in ages, his friends commenting on his open and confident demeanour when he laughs louder at their jokes. His arms pain less, and his mind feels rested when he ends his assignments for the day.

All worries seems to be brushed off his shoulders.

It’s like Wonwoo helped him use his Volatile on those, too.

°°°

The first time Hansol flies with Jeon Wonwoo, the world is not important anymore as they reign over it together.

They are stood in the field behind the barn, and Wonwoo unfolds his leathery wings out of his shoulder blades through the slits of his shirt. The winds and everything that flies obey him, and he commands the feathers that lay dormant in Hansol’s arms to be birds when he wants them to. He holds the younger’s hands as his joints crack, easing the pain with cooling breezes from his dragon wings as Hansol’s arms deform, until his head falls against Wonwoo’s chest when his fingers reach for the sky to paint it blue like the night.

When Hansol floats in the air, two fully formed, beautiful bird wings spread in front of him, they cheer loudly. It worked. Hansol’s family comes out of the barn, and his mother bursts into tears as he flaps his wings once and lifts higher from the ground than he ever has before. He laughs at the sun and jubilates into the sky as Wonwoo flies to his side and aides him during his first flight.

He is so free. No pain exists when he is miles over the ground, grazing the clouds with the tips of his feathers, his eyelashes catching the condensation between them and making him tear up, the wind hugging his body, and Wonwoo always next to him.

“You did it!“ Wonwoo shouts when they land, running towards Hansol who toppled onto the ground.

“We did it!“ Hansol shouts back as he sheds his feathers, scrambling to get onto his feet before getting caught in a tight embrace by his friend.

“It worked, I can fly,“ he repeats over and over again.

“You were beautiful Hansol,“ Wonwoo says, running his fingers through the younger’s damp hair, smiling wide, his glasses tilted in front of his illuminated eyes. “You did so good.“

They hold each other like this, revelling over their success, cheering for each other, laughing about the feat they just completed, until they still, breathlessly.

Hansol is so happy.

Wonwoo is close to face, exuding pure joy of his own.

The moment is perfect when he leans all the way closer to Hansol.

°°°

The first time Hansol kisses Jeon Wonwoo, he is sure sparks would have flown if any of them were a Heat trace mage.

Instead, it is themselves that fly.

°°°

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! now to the
> 
> LORE 
> 
> This world is filled with MAGICK, and every person carries a more or minder strong nuance of it. Here some explanations:
> 
> 1\. There are six nuances of magick, called TRACES. Everybody usually carries one single trace. There is HEAT trace (fire related powers), AERIAL trace (air related powers), AQUARIAL trace (water related power), GROUND trace (earth related powers), and then non-elemental traces, CELESTIAL (astronomical related powers) trace and PEACE trace (spiritual related powers).
> 
> 2\. For every trace of magick, there is a TYPE which specifies the MAGE'S abilities. In addition to their specific sets of SPELLS, which other types and traces especially can only, if ever, perform with difficulty, all the mages are able to learn simpler, widely applicable spells.
> 
> 3\. Each trace has an extremely rare type which is naturally powerful. They are respectively FIRESENT, WINDBORN, OCEN, EARTHBOUND, AURORA and MEDIUM. Not all of these types always exist, but when they do, they are shrouded in mysticism and often hold publicly performative and influential, but politically irrelevant professions as to hinder any possible abuse of power.
> 
> 4\. Many mages have familiars, however, there are magick types of the elemental traces directly relating to animals. These are CALLER types and describe the ability of bonding to every animal of ones trace and to communicate with it. The specific names are SCALE CALLER (reptiles like snakes and dragons and the occasional Heat traced mystical animal like phoenixes), GILL CALLER (any water living animal, no matter wether sweet or saltwater, mammal or fish), FEATHER CALLER (any bird and flying insect) FUR CALLER (any land living mammal and amphibian, as well as insects).
> 
> 5\. Some animals evolved into HYBRIDS of two different traces, bearing trace-typical features (like beaked monkeys or scales hound), however, this is not possible for humans, as their magick is spiritual and not an inherently biological feature.
> 
> 6\. Mostly, traces are passed down from the parents to their offsprings. If the parents bare two different traces, one trace of the two will be passed down. With two parents of the same trace, it is unlikely that the child will bare a different magick trace. However, this was the case with Wonwoo, as in a predominantly Heat traced family, be was born Aerial traced. A great-grandfather bore the Aerial trace before him.
> 
> 7\. The magick type can be influenced be the family's traces: When Vernon finds out that Wonwoo is Aerial, he assumes that he is Thermal type, which describes mages who heat the air with their abilities. However, the trace influence of Wonwoo's family manifested itself in the appearance of his wings, as dragons are Heat type animals.
> 
> !! SPOILERS !!
> 
> VERNON is AERIAL TRACE, VOLATILE TYPE: He can perform simple levitating charms on objects, sometimes peoples, and himself, causing the magicked object to float in a controlled manner. This type is usually called LIFTING type, however, the effects of the straying magick incident which led to his growth of feathers led to the transition of his magick into UNDEVELOPED VOLATILE TYPE.
> 
> WONWOO is AERIAL TRACE, WINGED TYPE: He is able to conjure wings on himself with which he is able to fly safely and control the wind around him, as well as enhance the Lifting for Flying properties of other magicks and objects.
> 
> VERNON'S MOTHER is simple GROUND TRACE, FUR CALLER TYPE
> 
> VERNON'S FATHER is AERIAL TRACE, PULLING TYPE: He controls the flowing of air on a smaller scale.
> 
> SEUNGKWAN is GROUND TRACE, GROWTH TYPE: He can accelerate the growth of any plant and can control the direction and type of growth (like the petals / the leaves / the vines / etc.)
> 
> That's it! I hope you enjoyed the lore, and the story as well <3


End file.
